


To ally with the Wolf

by kinky_fucker



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Porn, Basically the AU where Jon takes up Stannis's offer to be legitimised, Because Stannis hates everything that's going on, Bestiality, Boys Kissing, But dat word count tho, Direwolves (ASoIaF), Don't Examine This Too Closely, Don't Like Don't Read, Dubcon Kissing, Guilt, I Don't Even Know, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Titles, Knotting, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, My take on Stark Traditions, One Shot, Poor Stannis Baratheon, Porn With Plot, Shameless Smut, That's it - that's the fic, The Author Regrets Everything, Threats, but oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:53:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28501797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinky_fucker/pseuds/kinky_fucker
Summary: Stannis arrives at the Wall, seeking people to add to his army and a way to hold the North.Jon Snow, the last remaining male of the direct Stark line, is given the opportunity to be legitimised.But first, he has two conditions of his own, and one of them is something Stannis is loath to partake in...[WARNING: Contains BESTIALITY][because some people can't read the tags apparently]
Relationships: Stannis Baratheon/Ghost (ASoIaF), Stannis Baratheon/Jon Snow
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	To ally with the Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year!! Yes, I'm late, but shush :p
> 
> Let's hope this year is better than the last. And what a great way to start the year than with a smutty fic (and it's already cursed, damn)
> 
> Joking aside, I do NOT condone bestiality in real life. This fic is merely a fantasy and should not be attempted or replicated irl.
> 
> Enjoy the fantasy ^_^

Stannis Baratheon, rightful King of Westeros, had arrived at the Wall. He had summoned Jon Snow to his chambers and, along with his Hand Ser Davos, was now in deep discussion with the Black Brother.

“I ordered Mance Rayder burnt at the stake. You prevented that order from being carried out. You showed _mercy_ to Mance Rayder. The king’s word is law. Perhaps you should ask Ser Davos how much _mercy_ I show to lawbreakers,” Stannis said, turning his head to where Davos stood beside the desk he was seated at. Snow, standing the other side of the desk, flicked his eyes over to the Ser. They held each other’s gaze, not saying a word, before the boy turned back to his king. “Show too much kindness, people won’t fear you. If they don’t fear you, they don’t follow you,” he continued. 

“With respect, your grace, the free folk will never follow you no matter what you do,” Snow said, in that Northern accent of his. “You’re the man who burned their king alive.”

They stared at each other a moment, Snow’s expression decidedly neutral. “Who then?” Stannis asked. “You?” It didn’t escape the king’s notice that the boy had tilted his head slightly, eyebrows rising then falling a second later, as he spoke with understanding of the wildling’s ways. He had heard reports of the boy being sent in an undercover mission to infiltrate the unwashed tribes and wondered how much the boy had assimilated.

“No. Only one of their own,” Snow answered surely. 

Stannis took a second to think over the boy’s words before casting his gaze down to the small stack of papers to his right. “Do you know this wretched girl?” He lifted up some letters and brought out a flattened out scroll. “Lynna Mormont.” He slid the scroll across the desk.

“The Lord Commander’s niece,” Snow answered. His eyes flicked back over to Davos, and when the man didn’t move or speak, he leaned forward to pick up the scroll. 

“Lady of Bear Island, and a child of ten,” Stannis elaborated. “Asked her to commit her house to my cause - that was her response.” 

“Bear Island knows no king but the king in the North, whose name is Stark,” Snow read aloud, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a smile at the end of the sentence.

“That amuses you?” His stern gaze was upon the black brother as he waited for the boy to respond. 

His face was schooled into an appropriate expression and he stared down at the written words before looking back up to Stannis. “I apologise, your grace. Northerners...can be a bit like the free folk. Loyal to their own,” he finally responded, placing the scroll back on the desk. 

Stannis mused on the boy’s words, wondering where Snow’s loyalties truly lied. What did he consider himself? Wildling or black brother? Bastard or Stark? Lord of Winterfell or Lord Commander? Narrowing his eyes in concentration, he regarded the boy. It was time to find out. “I know,” he sighed. “Robert went on often and loudly enough about how difficult it was to control - even with your father’s help.”

Snow’s own eyes narrowed at the mention of his father, his mind trying to figure out where the conversation was heading. It was Ser Davos who spoke next. “Two nights from now is the election for the next Lord Commander. Ser Allister Thorne is going to win.”

“Most likely,” Snow commented.

“Unpleasant man who thinks you’re a traitor,” Davos continued, a note of distaste in his voice. “What’s your life going to be like here at the Wall with Thorne in command?”

“Unpleasant I expect,” Snow said lightly.

“Your bravery made him look weak,” Stannis said, cutting back into the conversation. His eyes were trained on the boy as he spoke and he forced his face to be neutral and less harsh than usual. “He’ll punish you for it. I don’t punish men for bravery. I _reward_ them.”

“I don’t doubt it, your grace,” Snow replied. His tone was still light, his mind still trying to figure out where this was leading to even as he stood there back straight and still as ever. There was a small pause as the boy chose his next words carefully. “But I’m a brother of the night’s watch,” he finally spoke. Stannis nodded, the loyalty the boy showed was as inconvenient as it was honourable. He didn’t interrupt as the boy continued. “I’ve pledged them my life, my honour, my sword. I don’t know what I have left to give you.”

“You could give me the North,” Stannis said seriously, gazing at Snow’s face to gauge his reaction. 

“I can’t,” Snow quickly replied, mirth quirking a corner of his mouth upward as he spoke. The mirth lingered before dying a heartbeat later. “Even if I wanted to, I’m a bastard. A _Snow.”_

The subtle note of hurt let Stannis know of Snow’s - _Jon’s_ true feelings. But of course, isn’t that what every boy dreamed of - every _bastard?_ Inheriting the family name and being able to steer the helm, making their father and forefathers proud. Of course Jon wanted that and so the deal was easily made. “Kneel before me; lay your sword at my feet, pledge me your service, and you’ll rise again as Jon _Stark_ \- Lord of Winterfell.”

Their gazes locked even as Jon became misty-eyed and taken aback. “I’ll...I’ll need some time to think about it, your grace,” he managed to choke out. Stannis nodded, agreeing to this and dismissing the boy in one gesture.

* * *

Stannis was not the most patient man by nature, his Baratheon blood leaving him with a shorter fuse than most. _Ours is the Fury_ and all that. And so, it was with a tightly clenched jaw that he indulged in these waiting games.

Jon had taken a whole day to deliberate before coming to Stannis, not with an answer, but to set up the next meeting. He had been so close to throttling the boy, consequences be damned, but Davos was there to calm him down. Jon pressed how the matter was private, his dark eyes flicking to Davos. The men agreed and then parted ways. Jon had given a time, location, and specific instructions - _come alone._ Stannis growled at the insubordination but it’s not like he had much choice. 

So there he was, pacing back and forth, in his own solar alone as he waited for the boy. It was mid-morning and he was sure that the boy was late. He gritted his teeth at this and continued to pace. There were a million and one things that required Stannis’s attention and time was surely running out for them all which made tardiness all the more frustrating. 

Finally, Snow entered. Stannis turned to face him. “You’re late,” he growled.

Snow bowed before his king with an apology promptly leaving his lips. “Apologies, your grace, Ser Thorne made a point of making me spar with the new recruits all morning and was rather eager to point out my mistakes.”

Stannis fought the childish impulse to roll his eyes and instead just sighed, counting to ten in his head before speaking. “Your answer?” He prompted curtly. He was confident the boy wouldn’t dare mess him about like this only to refuse his offer. Snow would certainly feel his wrath if that was the case.

“I agree to bend the knee and help you rally the North. But I have two conditions, Your Grace,” Jon replied. Stannis grunted to show that the boy could carry on. “First is that I, after the war is done, shall return to Castle Black and become a Brother of the Night’s Watch again. I swore an oath, I intend to uphold it, even if I have to put it aside temporarily.”

“Done,” Stannis said with a sharp dip of his head.

“And the second condition...involves old Stark tradition. A way of testing our alliances.” Stannis ruffled at this. Who was Jon to question him? Still, he wouldn’t back down. “Ghost, my direwolf, shall meet with you. He will determine if you are a good ally by...having his way with you.”

Shock and outrage hit Stannis like a ton of bricks, making him sputter as he becomes flustered. “What did you just say to me?” He demanded through tightly clenched teeth. 

“It’s a tradition that fell into obscurity when the Starks lost their direwolves. But now we have them back. I know Rob put his allies through this, and I intend to continue as he started,” the boy answered, as brave as he was foolish. 

The two men stare at each other, Jon not wilting under the murderous glare Stannis was giving him. He became aware of how uncomfortably hot the room had become and felt like his cheeks were burning, perhaps even being spotted with colour. He drew himself to his full height, steeling his mind. He was Stannis Baratheon, he did not back down so easily. And it was not as if he really had a choice.

“When?” He ground out.

“Tonight when everyone is distracted by the election. We shall go down to my cells, that’s where Ghost is.”

* * *

And so, Jon led Stannis to his ice cell that evening. He had already told Davos that he was speaking to Jon in a private meeting and that no one is to disturb him unless there is some dire emergency. Davos had thankfully not asked for details and instead took command of the Baratheon army in his king’s leave.

Stannis had heard tales of the direwolves, both from the legends of the old Stark Kings and from the more recent yet still exaggerated stories of Robb Stark’s own wolf, and yet he still wasn’t prepared for his meeting with one. The direwolf, disconcerting enough without the strange fur and eye colour, seemed to know exactly what was going on and took his time sniffing at Stannis. He knew his way around dogs to know roughly what to do but this was a different situation entirely. Ghost was so much bigger, so much more dangerous, and the prospect of being mounted by a beast had never come up before. 

Stannis stood stock still as Ghost began to circle him. He spied the direwolf’s sac, confirming the beast was indeed male. It swung as the direwolf padded by, heavy with seed that was intended to be spilt inside him. He quickly averts his gaze, suddenly reminded that Jon was present and watching intently with those dark eyes of his. Embarrassment makes blood rush to his cheeks and he clenches his jaw. Must Jon be there to witness it unfold? In the event that things went sour, he supposed Jon would be on hand to stop Ghost from killing him. Stannis was, after all, no use dead.

Ghost finally came to a stop in front of Stannis and just stared up into his eyes. Those red eyes were intense, the unblinking stare even more so. Stannis tried to hold his ground but was compelled to lower his gaze, a strange whine escaping his throat. He was shocked he would make such a noise, wishing the Gods would just let him melt into the floor to escape his torment but alas no such mercy arrived.

What happened instead was Ghost pushing his snout forward to inspect Stannis’s crotch. A slight gasp left his mouth, shame making his stomach tie into knots as his cock responded to the disgusting attention. His hands balled into fists and he threw his head back as Ghost’s tongue began to lap over the area. Roughspun wool and small clothes acted as a barrier but he could feel how hot and wet the direwolf’s tongue was and how his cock ached to receive direct attention. A pair of hands that were not his own were undoing the laces and tugging his breeches down. He snapped his eyes open - _when had he closed them?_ \- and looked back down to glare at Jon. Before he could utter a word, Jon was kissing him.

Their lips met, Stannis’s slightly open mouth unintentionally inviting Jon’s tongue inside. Jon was clumsy in his movements and Stannis hated every second of it, but there was some small insane part of his brain that told him this felt good. His head began to swim as all his blood ran south to fill his cock, his lungs being robbed of air the longer the kiss continued. He had just started to feel faint by the time Jon stepped back, breaking the kiss. Stannis swayed, unsteady on his feet as his head span. The dizziness was only made worse by Ghost, who had kept up his lapping, only now having access to bare skin. He shivered, breathes coming in gasping gulps and deep heaves. 

Jon called Ghost back and Stannis was given some space to breathe and slow his racing heart, his head no longer pounding from being so light-headed. 

“Ghost can’t reach, you’ll have to get on your hands and knees,” Jon said, breaking the silence. 

Stannis ground his teeth together. His rationality was returning, his disgust for lying with a beast ever-present. Fresh waves of shame made his stomach tighten as his cock twitched in anticipation and his hands fumbled to expose his backside. He had taken the time to prepare beforehand, not trusting the boy or the wolf to remember or care. As much as he loath to admit it, the prep had felt...nice. His cock jumped at the memory, a sinful thought wishing things would feel just as good if not better.

Stannis sent Jon a glare - _get on with it._ Jon gave the command and Ghost trotted back over. His thick warm fur tickling Stannis’s neck as he walked by. The wolf was immediately intrigued by the presented hole, nudging his snout in for a closer inspection. He jumped for the wolf’s nose was cold but Ghost soothed him by using his tongue. A strained sound escaped Stannis’s throat despite his best efforts to remain silent. That tongue lapped at his hole, catching on the rim and slipping just the tiniest bit inside. It wasn’t long before the wolf was trying to get his tongue inside and was probing for a way in. Those calm, even breaths began to spiral into heaves, Stannis sure he’d be sick from repulsion. Ghost managed to stick his tongue inside and his tight walls clamped down upon the invasion. The direwolf was becoming impatient and wanted his own cock buried in the tightness Stannis offered. So, the tongue was removed and the wolf scrambled into position.

Stannis was a strong man but Ghost’s bulk took him off guard. Despite being the runt of the litter, he was bigger than any dog or ordinary wolf, meaning his weight made Stannis’s arms collapse like a weathered thatched roof. He buried his face in the crook of his elbow and braced against the floor, his arse now high in the air. Large paws dug into his shoulder blades while Ghost’s hind legs were flush to his thighs, his cock seeking out the hole. Another whine escaped Stannis’s throat as the direwolf’s blunt tip jabbed at his entrance. Ghost began to hump, impatient and mad with lust. Slowly, the cock slipped inside, and Stannis instantly clamped down around the tip as it entered. Ghost made several noises of protest as he tried to slide home and Stannis forced himself to relax his muscles. Ghost stilled when his cock bottomed out, appreciating how warm and tight Stannis was, but he quickly got into a punishing rhythm. 

The pressure, it was like nothing Stannis had ever felt before. Ghost was so much bigger than his fingers had been and felt like a rod of fire as he pounded away. His own cock, the traitorous thing, was twitching and bouncing as Ghost caused tiny sparks of pleasure. _Pleasure from lying with a beast,_ he thought with a shudder, stomach clenching with disgust. 

He shifted his hips, muscles getting cramp from staying still for too long, and on the next thrust he felt it; an explosion of pleasure. Ghost’s cock had hit something dead on and it ripped a loud moan from the man. He screwed his eyes shut, seeing stars, trying to silence the stream of moans that flooded from his mouth to no avail. His cock was jumping constantly, pre-cum oozing out to create a puddle beneath him. Every thrust, Ghost continued to nail that spot inside him, the pleasure becoming too much - almost painful. He opened his eyes, slightly blurry vision landing on Jon.

The boy leaned against the wall, arms crossed against his chest, dark eyes observing closely. He was as still as a statue, not seeming to notice that his cock was bulging against his breeches obscenely. Their eyes met and Stannis tried for a glare. _Degenerate_ , he wanted to curse. But he was all too aware of how his eyes were half-lidded, his slightly swollen lips were parted, and how small noises continued to tumble from his mouth because of what that damned direwolf was doing. The pleasure was mounting and he was a hair's breadth from climax. He tried to hold back as best he could, trying to summon his iron will to stop his descent into mind-melting lust, but it was all too much. His eyes rolled back in his head and he screamed as he climaxed. 

Cum splattered onto the floor in a thick stream, Ghost’s never faltering thrusts drawing it out. He was shaking and shuddering, suddenly much too hot for clothes. Hands clumsily clawed at his cloak and doublet, all but tearing them off and flinging them aside. His figure was now revealed to Jon but Stannis didn’t have the brainpower to think it all through. Ghost had continued thrusting even though Stannis’s orgasm had subsided. He whined at the overstimulation.

_“Please,”_ he croaked out, not knowing whether he was begging Ghost to stop or begging for more. The direwolf kept going regardless, seeking his own pleasure. Stannis’s cock ached as pleasure was forced upon him and he began to shake violently. Ghost began to growl and thrust harder, trying to force something additional inside. Stannis’s head was spinning, his thoughts a garble of nonsense. _What was Ghost doing?_ “Wait!” He cried out, trying to scramble away as last-minute realisation hit him. 

The direwolf pinned Stannis in place, large fangs grabbing hold of the scruff of his neck. He stilled, blood roaring in his ears as his heart pounded. The knot stretched him to his limit as it was forced inside. Stannis ground his teeth from the strain, doing his best to stay relaxed enough to avoid tearing. Ghost let out a loud howl as the knot finally went in and his climax was reached. Wolf cum covered his insides, cooling him down as it filled him up.

The pair panted hard, Stannis feeling as though all his organs were now crammed in his chest to make room for the seed that splattered his insides. “How...long?” He asked breathless, gaze flicking to Jon with some effort.

“Dogs usually stay knotted for ten minutes, wild wolves twenty,” the boy replied cryptically. _Work it out,_ his expression read. With a groan, Stannis hid his face again, wishing he could be anywhere but here.

* * *

He wasn’t sure how long it had been when Ghost finally, _finally,_ slipped out of him. Relief flooded his system, taking the edge off the soreness and pain he felt. Gloved hands coaxed him into sitting up, steadying him as he leant back against the wall for support.

“You’ve done well, your grace,” Jon said sincerely, humour flickering in his eyes. 

“I should castrate the pair of you,” Stannis threatened through gritted teeth, glaring at the boy and pretending not to acknowledge the feeling of seed leaking out of his stretched and sore hole.

“But how would else you test the mettle of potential allies, your grace?” The boy asked in a whisper that sent shivers down his spine. His cock, utterly spent, gave a half twitch at the idea. Stannis would never admit it, but a tiny voice in his head gave voice to the dark truth; _laying with a direwolf was the most pleasure he had ever experienced._


End file.
